Would you?
by swiftswallow
Summary: When faced with a difficult decision, Océane finds her life going down an unexpected route. For the first time she's going to be challenged in what her morals are and how much she is willing to sacrifice to survive.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't anything glamorous or cunning. It wasn't particularly clever or interesting. It was just something. Some twisted diseased thing.

Océane walked slowly away. A cold glint in her eye focused firmly ahead into the mist and rain. Slowly, the screams grew fainter not that she heard them. They passed through her mind covered by the increasing eerily loud silence. The rain seemed to pound down as if it wanted to knock some sense into her. She kept on walking.

"…_.Océane, please"_

"_You did this?"_

"_Look I can exp-"_

"_Yes or no?"_

"…_..Yes but I can explain. Wait ,w-what are you doing?"_

"_Get down?"_

"_W-"_

"_I SAID GET DOWN!"_

The tree provided little cover from the torrential rain but it gave Océane something to grip onto. Clutching the rough ridged bark hard enough to leave marks on her skin she leant over and threw up before slowly slipping to the ground beneath her. Above her on the hill the dark farmhouse's eyes were fixed on her.

"_W-w-why have you got a gun?"_

"_Don't move."_

"_OCÉANE!"_

"_It's the only way…you'll thank me."_

Shivering softly, Océane started slipping away into the rain again. She ran her hands through her hair trying to get as much rain into her hair as possible. Trying not to convulse into sickness at the thought of what had just passed. The hot sticky blood spilled across the floor, the small white hands she had just taken in her own and worse of all the flies. Her grip tightened round the grip of the pistol in defence to her memories. She wanted to be clean. She wanted to be clean of all this.

_She kissed the woman on the each cheek as she met her followed by the same old rituals of greeting; taking refuge from the war in useless trivia of the weather, rations and health. Then it began. A simple question: Where are your boys? It had an immediate effect on the woman, almost instantly the colour paled from her aged face. Océane paused unsure of what to say next before continuing in her brutal style. "They are still here aren't they?" The woman snapped back viciously like a hound._

"_They're hunting with their father." Before taking a deep breath and pursing her lips. A forced smile stretched tautly across her face. "Take a seat, won't you, until they arrive?" Océane frowned before taking up on the woman's offer._

_Slowly, the minutes ticked by, 5, 10, 20, 30, one hour. The silence began to grow heavier like the heavy clouds in the sky. They didn't seem to be coming back anytime soon yet she stayed before finally admitting defeat when she noticed the sunlight fade against the vast open fields. It was getting late. With a purse of her lips and a concerned frown she stood up. "It's getting late now, I need to be off." The woman gave a gracious smile._

"_I-I-I promise you they'll be back to school soon." Her voice was filled with desperation causing Océane to give the woman a polite smile and not bother about her previously planned lecture on education. She had never had any problems with the family before it seemed unusual for it to happen now._

_It was the bicycle that caused it, had she walked it wouldn't have happened. Strolling across the yard towards it she noticed something fluttering in the outhouse window. Curious she headed towards it taking her bicycle with her. Slowly she opened the door and a strong foul smell caused her to gag. A swarm of flies buzzed around the room focusing on one corner. Intrigued Océane made her way over. Two hay bales were piled up against the grey stone wall dampness forming on the rocks. Carefully she shifted off the top layer._

"_Can I help you?"_

_Océane gave a jump before guiltily turning around to face the voice. She took a deep breath and returned to her teacher mind set of non-existent self-righteousness._

"_I just saw the flies and I was wonde-"_

"_That's my business." The lady cut off aggressively before continuing. "And right now I think you're trespassing."_

Sitting on the ground she pulled her legs up against her as she watched the house burst into flames. She had done that. It was by her hand that a stone building packed full of documents was burning, filled with memories and family heirlooms lost forever. A great devastation had caused it and she, much to her own disgust, loved it. For the first time she had tasted destruction and power together. It was as if her morals had taken a back seat, locked up in a little box where their screams were scarcely heard over survival instinct. The feelings of betrayal and fear mixed in a violent cocktail with adrenaline and passion causing sickening warmth in her gut. It was addicting yet terrifying. With the initial sight fading, pushed underneath the mass of new ideas of what she was going to do next, Océane felt alive.

**Thank you for reading. I would just like to take a moment to apologise to anyone reading the story which I deleted. The plot was just going no-where and it really needed some closer attention. If you've got the time I would really love to see what you thought of this chapter and what you thought of it. It's a rare occasion in which justified flamers are welcome. The chapter is short, so sorry if I'm not giving you enough to work with.**


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed so pointless, Upham lamented, all the way through high school you tell yourself that you'll no longer need to deal with idiots when you reach university, all the way through university you tell yourself you won't have to deal with jerks as soon as you pass and get a job doing something you like with people with similar interests and it goes on and on and on. He was always on the outside looking in.

He supposed that it gave him a fresh perspective on things. When you're not part of something you can see everything so clearly. It made writing the book so much easier in that sense. Being in a support role he never really go to see the actual fighting up front but her did see the consequences and it amazed him. People who would never have spoken were suddenly as close as brothers and the way they treated the small things. Suddenly the little things that never mattered took a huge leap in importance; they formed sacred rituals of normality on which sanity required, the rolling of a cigarette in a certain way, getting up at the same time when given the chance because that was the time the cows came in and the masterful art of lying to your mother in every single letter until it resembled a piece of propaganda on the relaxation of war. The little things mattered.

And now? Now all that hard work was paying off. Soon this would all be over; the final push was coming in a matter of days. He along with all the other clerks were playing messenger day and night. It was only a matter of days now until this would all be over.

For Océane, on the other hand, it was just beginning. Glancing down at the piece of paper in her hands, it suddenly struck her how valuable it was. This tiny piece of creased up paper, with writing smeared from her sweaty hands, contained a piece of information every officer in fifty miles would be interested in. For a moment she toyed with the idea of using it to buy her safety, then with a sigh, she double checked the sign post on the street and threw the piece of paper into her mouth.

It took a moment for the door to open to reveal a worn looking forty year old man glaring at her. He wasn't the type of person she would normally have talked to, with his off white stained nightshirt and the tell-tale signs of drink present in his blood shot eyes and ruddy complexion.

"What the hell do you want at this time of night?"

Océane , going against every rule she taught to the children, found herself staring at the stranger. Her mouth lay open like a cave by the sea, gawping like an idiot. With a sneer the gentleman began to close to door before, in a moment of desperation she reached out and grabbed it. "No!" Carefully swinging the door back open, she focused her eyes on the ground as she panicked at what to say, the ever present feeling of dread penetrating her mind. "I know."

The man made no reply. Instead he watched her carefully as if she could pounce at any moment.

"I know about the Tuesday meetings…I know about …your son." Pleadingly, she looked into his eyes. With the initial fear of speaking gone, she found her wavering voice growing it strength and confidence. "I know about a whole side of this town, I wish I never knew. I wish …I wish I had never found this rotting hell hole of a place. I-I-I…" Tears began stinging in her eyes as she took another gulp of air, throwing her arms down in desperation. " I wish ", she screamed " the BB-"

"Get inside!" It was more of a snarl than anything else, it matched his bear like ferocity; his face twisted into a hideous grimace that a thousand wounded animals had born before, he glanced down behind her to make sure no-one was there before his paw like hands slammed the door violently. In the dank, dusty, dimly lit corridor there was no escape. "How did you find out?"

"Mrs Gaudet" she spat out bitterly. "and her son, funnily enough." She shook her head when she saw his blank reaction. "What haven't you heard? " She gave mocking laugh and stepped closer to him, glaring at him with full eye contact with her large manic eyes.

"Just what are you implying?"

"It was my entire fault apparently. I was the one who let them give a talk to the school, I was the one taught them that it was right; I was the one who encouraged them all. I, I, I, I DID IT ALL! How was I supposed to know what would happen. What…dirty, sordid little secrets people like to get up to in their spare time? What filth gathers up in the gutter when it's left for too long. I only did my job. What was asked of me."

The silence that followed was only interrupted periodically by the clicking of the clock that hung on the otherwise barren wall. Carefully, the man chose his words.

"What did you do?"

"I killed them."

Jacque had done many stupid things in his time; gave up his caring wife for a woman who jilted him, drank more than he should, and forced his quiet son into a war in which he was now held captive but never had he done anything as stupid as what he was now hearing. For months his life had been boring, like clockwork one would say. It was how he liked it or, to put it better, how he coped with the guilt. He didn't want company or anything for that matter. He only went to three places willingly; to the pub, home and to visit Adeline.

Adeline's was a place which had no great connection to him. The chances were had it not been for war they would never have met. He had long forgotten how he, or possibly she, had found each other let alone listening to the BBC together. Not because he enjoyed it but because there was a chance that one day his son's name would be read out as a prisoner of war. In a way he was grateful Adeline was there to translate, it would have been a lot harsher (if it ever happened) to hear his son's voice called out by the people who had captured him.

Now, in the middle of the night, he was woken up by a filthy young woman dressed, in stark contrast, in a silk blouse, heels and a plain black skirt. A once neat bun lying ragged against her pale face. The way she babbled it was insane. Even now, he couldn't be sure if what she was saying was the truth.

Unsure of what to do, he had sat her down at the kitchen table. He wasn't worried about her getting things dirty; he couldn't recall the last time he had cleaned. They sat awkwardly, with only a candle to provide light, the table providing an effective barrier between them.

"I want to get this straight, you killed Adeline and her son?" he asked suspiciously.

"Not technically", she croaked "I didn't actually…you know…kill him. B-b-but in a way, I guess she was right… I caused it." The nameless woman stared at him again. It made his skin crawl; there was just something about her which made the hairs stand on end. He wanted rid of her before she did something completely crazy. "Why did you listen to it anyway?"

Jacque paused for a moment. "To see if the bastards had my son."

"Your son works for the Ger-"

"Yes.", Jacques snapped "and what's it to you?"

"Nothing…"

"Just tell your story simple and straight and I'll debate about not giving you to the police or the asylum by the looks of things."

"I was curious, plain and simple. The boys hadn't been in school and I went to see why. I noticed the barn, it had a strange smell, and she was acting strange. I was curious. I came back later that night. I don't know why, for some reason I-I just couldn't forget, you know? It was like a scene from a film just replaying over and over again in my head. I went to see what it was."

"And?"

"His head…I saw his head first. All broken like...like…I don't know what a-a-and covered in dried blood, you could see a bit of the skull poking through the flesh. I think I was sick. No, I was sick that's what made her catch me. She walked in on me. It all most seemed like she expected me. Then she started to speak. Told me it was my entire fault that he was changing. They had an argument over the radio. It was all a horrible accident."

"Then what?"

"I don't know why, I don't know why I did it. But…I felt so sorry for her. She was crying and I felt guilty I guess. I told her we could cover it up, that no-one need know. At first she didn't want to but…I convinced her. God, why did I do that. We wrote a fake ransom letter. Something stupid, I forget. S-s-some of her hair was in his fist. I had to get rid of it. Then I got out the pistol…"

"What?" Jacque nearly shouted. "Where the hell did you get the gun from?"

"I-I-I had taken it with me. It's was my granduncles, an old thing. I had taken it for defence. I didn't know what I was going to find. Mrs Gaudet saw it. She thought…that it would seem a bit strange that nothing had happened to her. She wanted me to shoot her through the leg"

Slumping his head into his hands, mumbling darkly, he knew exactly where this was going. A fresh burst of tears from across the table confirmed his fears. "You missed didn't you." He looked up to see her nodding, her hand clamped over her mouth as if by hiding her tongue she could disown the words they had spoken. Tears flowing over the dirt on her face like a waterfall.

"I only meant to shoot her in the leg. I-I-I was shaking so much. I didn't mean too."

Jacque stood up, before prowling over to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle; roughly he uncorked it and took a swig. It was going to be a long night.

A few days later he was too find out that it wasn't just two bodies they had found but four.


End file.
